Here is the conclusion at last. Thank you for your reviews. It has been so much fun all the way!
ACT NINE Come, friend Watson, the curtain rings up for the last act
"Negotiations? What kind of negotiations?" Klink asked.
"The kind that will set me free," Liesel said. "Now, gentlemen, let's say that I have something that might interest you all."
Kinch moved to his friends' table. He pulled at LeBeau's sleeve to talk to him in secret. "She seems to have something over our heads. What did you tell her?"
"Nothing," LeBeau shrugged.
"Only name, rank, serial number and your aunt's address in Paris?" Carter shook his head. "She's the typical fam... fem..."
"Femme fatale?" Newkirk winced in pain.
Kinch sat next to him. "You don't look so good."
"Just a splitting headache, my friend," Newkirk said with a fainting smile. "She looks quite satisfied. What can she possibly hold against you?"
"Nothing," LeBeau repeated, "and I don't have an aunt in Paris. We just talked about the underground and the operations-"
"Operations?"
"You know, the bridges, train stations-"
Carter elbowed him. "Not in front of him!"
Kinch chuckled. "It's okay, Carter. Mr. Holmes would never betray us, would you?"
"Of course not," Newkirk nodded. He stood up, leaning on the table until his blurred sight cleared. He rejected Kinch's help and started walking toward Hogan.
0)()(0
Hogan stared at Liesel as though reading her thoughts. There was no way to know how much she knew about their operations. He could not ask or get her talking with Klink and Burkhalter so close and attentive. But he could not let her go either. The general would have a ball listening to whatever the girl had to say. Hogan sighed. He could pray for a miracle; he had done it before...
"Miss Vert," Newkirk said, slowly stepping forward. "This is not the way to solve this problem. See? In my line of work, I am used to contemplating the little parts before looking at the entire whole. You are too young to throw your life away like this..." He kept walking toward her.
"Stop right there! I know how to use this," Liesel said, aiming the pistol at Newkirk. "I spared your life once already; you won't be so lucky this time."
"Hey! You are not as nice as I thought you were," LeBeau yelled at her. "I'm so sorry I wanted to be friends with you."
"My heart bleeds," Liesel snorted.
"It's okay, LeBeau," Carter said, "we were all deceived by her innocent looks."
"I didn't," Kinch said. "This is something that wouldn't have happened to Hercules Poirot, you know?"
"Don't call me that! He's not even French!"
"Shocking isn't it? I just got to that part in the book and-"
"Carter!" Hogan, Kinch and LeBeau yelled at the same time.
"Is this the group you work with?" Liesel chuckled and looked at Hogan.
Newkirk got close enough to slap the pistol off Liesel's hand. The weapon fired as it hit the floor and everybody sought for shelter. Newkirk was still on his feet but struggling to stay awake. He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. "There must be... another... way..." Suddenly, he fell on Burkhalter.
The general could not keep his balance and he and Newkirk fell over Liesel. She dragged herself out from under them and crawled to pick up the pistol. Klink saw it close to his boot and kicked it away before seeking refuge against the wall. The pistol slid near Frau Köperschaft but Colonel Senf was faster to stop it under his boot. He looked around as every pair of eyes fell on him. Slowly, he picked up the weapon and aimed at Liesel, still on the floor.
Senf stared at her for a moment. Then, he smiled. "Was ever woman in this humor won?*"He handed the pistol to Hogan. "This game is over; you may start another one, my dear friend."
"Schultz! Disarm the prisoner!" Klink yelled running to lift up Burkhalter.
Hogan hesitated for a moment before putting the gun in Schultz's hand. Then, he went to check on Newkirk. The others were already there. Carter saw a strange shadow pass through Hogan's eyes and he wondered what the colonel had in mind. "That was close, eh, Colonel?"
"Carter, you have no idea," Hogan said. He knelt down and touched Newkirk's shoulder. "He's still unconscious."
"Is he going to be all right?" LeBeau asked with concern.
"It's been a long night. Newkirk needs to rest." Kinch took out his jacket and put it under Newkirk's head. "Maybe some of fresh air?"
"Let's put him by the window," said Hogan. He and Kinch moved him, while Carter and LeBeau made room in a corner.
"Colonel Hogan," Klink called him from a distance.
"Now what?" Hogan whispered. He took a deep sigh and pretended to be calmer than he actually was. "Yes, Kommandant? I see you have canceled the firing squad." He grinned at Schultz and Langenscheidt who widely smiled from another table.
Klink smirked. "The murderer confessed. I guess your man is free of charges."
"Not so fast, Klink," Burkhalter roared. "Do you forget that your prisoners carry weapons?"
Hogan waited until the general was closer before answering to that. He kept his poker face, hoping to find the right thing to say. "My men are not armed. They haven't carried a weapon since they were captured and sent to Stalag 13. Kommandant Klink would never allow it." He turned to his men. "Right, boys."
"Absolutely," said Kinch.
"He's the Iron Eagle," Carter shrugged.
"I can't even have a wooden spoon, sir," LeBeau said before going back to Newkirk.
"The Englander has a knife."
"With all due respect, General Burkhalter, I haven't seen that knife you're talking about."
"Colonel Hogan," Klink tried to put some peace between them and the general.
"Where is the knife?" Hogan shrugged. "Show me the knife. There is no knife, right boys?"
Before they started their answers again, the general slammed the door with an open hand. "Enough, Hogan!"
"Could you keep it down, gentlemen? Newkirk needs peace and quiet."
Everybody turned to Carter. Only Hogan and Kinch laughed. Burkhalter shook his head, he was about to question Klink about his prisoners' disrespect when Liesel got up. "Oh, please!" She rolled her eyes and sighed. "This man is not what you think he is."
Hogan and his men did not dare to move or say anything. The woman looked determined to take them down with her. She even smiled triumphantly when Klink and Burkhalter turned to her.
"We don't need to listen to her, she's a murderer and a liar," said Klink, afraid of unveiling something bad about his Stalag.
"Quiet, I'll be the judge of that," Burkhalter smirked. "What do you have to say, Frau Vert?"
"A lot, mon General," she grinned to Hogan. "This man, Colonel Hogan, has a-"
"A car!"
Hogan glared at Carter. The young sergeant had his heart in the right place but did not think much before talking. "Carter, please-" Hogan whispered.
"A car is coming, sir, sirs," Carter pointed to the window.
LeBeau and Kinch came to see. "Oulalà, qu'elle voiture!"
"De luxe," Kinch nodded.
Hogan did not have time to understand what was happening. He could just go with the flow and hope that whatever it was, would take them away from the main problem. "Who could it be at this hour?" Hogan said, glancing at his watch.
"Schultz! Be prepared," Burkhalter ordered, pushing Klink to open the door.
The German sergeant sighed and began to look for his rifle again. "Why me? Why always me?" Schultz said for Langenscheidt's ears only.
Klink walked reluctantly to the door but someone opened it from the outside. A man in black came in. Hogan had to look at him twice to recognize the sneaky stranger they kept meeting everywhere. Only that this man was too serious and inexpressive.
"Good morning, gentlemen, ladies," he nodded. "My name is Konrad Richtermeir, SS," he tapped his heels and showed a small business card that nobody could read at that distance. "I have come following the path of two dangerous criminals. A couple, a French couple. M. and Mme Vert," he read from a piece of paper.
"Excuse me," Klink said, narrowing his eyes. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Klink, please," Burkhalter pushed him to come through. "It was about time for someone to come this way. We have been disconnected from the outside world since yesterday. What division exactly do you say you represent?"
"That's classified information, General." The man smiled. "Just tell me, have you seen a couple of such description? My time is limited and I would like to go on my way as soon as possible."
"Precisely," Burkhalter nodded and Langenscheidt pulled Liesel gently to her feet. "Half of the couple is here. I am afraid that M. Vert is no longer with us. She killed him."
"Really? Maybe the authorities should be the ones to determine that, don't you think?" The man said.
"She confessed publicly," Burkhalter shrugged. "Let's not waste any more time. Take the girl and please, send help. There are people here who would like to get home today."
"Certainly," the man nodded. "I am sure that I saw a patrol coming after me." He turned casually towards Hogan. "Help is on its way." He took the girl's arm and went back to his car.
"You think you have heard the last of me," Liesel snatched her arm back. "I'll talk, I'll confess what I did and then, I'll talk about you, Colonel Hogan!"
Hogan knew that Burkhalter and Klink were looking at him. He remained with a little grin on his face. His concerned about the safety of their operations grew by the minute.
"What has just happened?" Carter scratched his head. "Who is that man really?"
"Beats me," Kinch shrugged, staring at the car rolling down the hill.
"I insist that I have seen that man before," Klink shook his head as though to put his thoughts in motion.
"In one of those boring meetings at Stalag 13 perhaps," Burkhalter said going back to his table. He would spend his time making sure that Hanna Fritz was all right.
0)()(0
Carter looked at the list of suspects on his notebook one more time. He checked them all and nodded. "Two murders, two murderers. I didn't see that coming and you?"
LeBeau shrugged and went behind the bar. "I never thought Liesel would be capable of that." He put a teapot on a tray. "Here, help me with the cups, s'il-te plaît."
They went back to the table, where Kinch was changing Newkirk's bandages. The Englishman was awake, although a little confused.
"Ouch!" He complained loudly.
"Stop moving. I'm almost done." Kinch cleaned the wound with a wet cloth. "The swell is coming down. How do you feel?"
"Me head is killing me," he rubbed the back of his neck. "They wouldn't happen to have an aspirin in this bloody place, would they?"
"No aspirin, but I found tea," LeBeau said with a smile.
Newkirk felt his friends staring at him while he helped himself to a cup. "What?"
"Nothing," Carter shrugged. He could not stop smiling. "We're just happy to see you."
"You are weird," Newkirk frowned.
Hogan came to sit with them. He looked happy too. "Newkirk, how do you-?"
"I'm fine. I have a monster headache and you, lads, look weird."
"Any news, Colonel?" Kinch asked.
"Langenscheidt saw trucks coming this way. They'll be here in a few minutes."
"More soldiers?" Carter asked.
"I don't know, possibly," Hogan said. "At least, our detective job is over."
"It was a good job, but let's not do it too often," LeBeau said.
Newkirk glared I them. "Did I miss anything while I was unconscious?"
"Actually, you weren't unconscious all the time." Carter took his notebook.
"In fact, you helped us to solve the crime," Kinch said.
"It wasn't him, it was Sherlock Holmes," LeBeau said.
"I was who?"
"Sherlock Holmes, and the colonel was Sam Spade and I was Dupin, Carter was Watson-"
"And I was Poirot," LeBeau smirked, "it was fun until I found out he isn't French."
Newkirk looked at each one of them with wary eyes. "You're pulling me leg here."
"C'est vrai, you told me..."
"Personally, I would have liked to be another detective like Dick Tracy or Phillip Marlowe," Carter sighed. "But Dr. Watson is okay."
Newkirk rubbed his face and shook his head. "I thought I was the only one with a bump on his head."
"For the moment, you're still the one." Hogan turned to LeBeau. "Guys, we need to talk. If that man was really working for the SS, Liesel could be talking as we speak."
"He could still be the salesman in disguise," Carter said.
"Colonel, I'm so sorry. I tried not to talk, but she looked so sincere and vulnerable. I just wanted to make her feel better," LeBeau said.
"I could have shot her... I had the chance a while ago... Colonel Senf handed me the gun... I had her just in front of me. It could have been so easy," Hogan looked at them quietly. Then, he smiled at LeBeau. "It's okay; we knew something like this could happen anytime. Let's just hope that we can get to the Stalag before all hell breaks loose."
"What happened? LeBeau got drunk and spilled all the beans with the bird?"
"We'll laugh later, Newkirk, when we are all safe and on our way home." Hogan tried to smile.
Langenscheidt opened the door and they jumped in surprise. "They're here!"
Morning had broken and the blizzard had stopped. The road and the cars were under several inches of snow. It was cold and the incipient sun did not do much to warm up the day. Despite the weather conditions, everybody in the Löwenmähner Inn came out. It seemed that they could not wait to leave that place once and for all.
Two trucks parked right in front of them. The first one was rather familiar. Hogan did not need to see the driver to guess who he was. "Schnitzer?"
The loyal kennel keeper came out, inexpressive as always. He barely nodded at Klink or Burkhalter. Two men with shovels followed him. The three of them began to work on the cars near the inn. Hogan pretended to come to help.
"Local police or Army?" Hogan asked quietly, looking at the other truck.
"Locals," answered Schnitzer. "We would not have risked coming with the Army." He took an envelop out of his pocket and slowly passed it to Hogan. "A stranger came to us this morning. He alerted us of what had happened."
"Tall, dark and handsome?"
Schnitzer smiled. "He said Etienne is dead?" He saw Hogan's nod. "He let something with us... small, pretty and with a lot to say about..."
"I know, we had some leak," Hogan sighed.
"It has been neutralized," Schnitzer said. "The man left the package with us. We'll take care of her."
Hogan felt a weight lifting off his shoulders. He could not show his relief just yet, not in front of the Germans.
"Hogan!" Burkhalter pulled his rank over Klink's once more. "Are you keeping them company? Go and bring your men outside. Put them to work!"
Hogan turned to Schnitzer, "Thank you," he whispered before going back inside the inn.
0)()(0
Dear Colonel Hogan,
At this point, you must know already that I am a thief. I came this way, following Captain Köperschaft and some precious stones that he and his wife brought from Casablanca. I was not counting on him leaving his party so early or on the weather to strand us all in the Löwenmähner Pension. I took it as a stroke of gold. I had to make the best out of it. Therefore, if you notice that some things in that inn are missing, you will not need Sherlock Holmes to figure out what happened.
My traveling companion, Mme Vert, believed me to be an officer and told me about the operations of sabotage and escape that you and your men are doing in Stalag 13. You will be pleased to know that she will not have the chance to tell that story anymore. Providence is on our side today. I met some members of the underground on the road and they promised to take care of her.
I like to think that I contributed to your inquiry. The things I sent you with your man must certainly have helped to put together the last pieces of the puzzle. I also found something that I gathered belongs to one of your men. I must commend you for the high-class men at your service. Your corporal recognized me right away. No wonder you call him Sherlock Holmes. By the way, I like your code names. They are quite inventive. I hope that we will meet again under better circumstances. Until then, good luck.
Sincerely,
A. L.
Hogan finished the letter and opened the small package that came with it. He held Newkirk's knife for a moment before handing it to him. "This is yours."
"Blimey, Gov'nor, I didn't know I had lost it." Newkirk examined it. He noticed that the blade was stained. "Are those red spots-?"
"You don't want to know," Kinch said. "Just wash it thoroughly when we go back to the Stalag."
Newkirk shrugged and hid his weapon in the secret pocket on the back of his jacket. "So, A. L? What do those initials stand for?"
"Arsène Lupin," Carter said. "You were right all the time."
"Who, me? Who do you think I am, bloody Sherlock Holmes?" Newkirk chuckled. "I don't even remember the bloke."
LeBeau laughed loudly from the window, where he had been watching how the police put the two bodies in one of the trucks. "Certainement, You are not Sherlock Holmes."
"Same here," Kinch smiled.
"From all of us," Hogan said.
"Arsène Lupin is just a literature character, isn't he?" Kinch asked. "He doesn't exist."
"But the letter-" Carter was about to insist but Schultz came to interrupt them.
"Schnitzer is leaving," LeBeau said looking through the window. "Langenscheidt is driving Colonel Senf. Frau Köperschaft is sitting in the police truck. Do you think they arrested her?"
"She conspired with Etienne to murder her husband," Hogan said crossing out her name from Carter's list.
"Oh, this is so romantic," LeBeau smiled. "General Burkhalter is helping Fraulein Fritz to get in his car."
They all came to see. "Oh, the big man is a married man," Kinch shook his head.
"Naughty boy," Newkirk grinned.
"What does she see in him?" Carter asked.
"You don't expect us to answer that question, right?" Hogan laughed.
There was an exchange of words between Burkhalter and Klink and then, the general took a seat next to the lady. Klink did not look happy when he came back to the inn. Hogan and his men rushed to sit down and look casual.
"Your truck is ready; Schultz will get you home now." Klink smirked. "I have to drive Fraulein Fritz to her home in Gräfendor."
"That's like 40 minutes from here, isn't it?" Carter said with fake commiseration.
"Then, I have to drive General Burckhalter home... his sister is visiting. He will probably make me stay for dinner... I'll be coming back to the Stalag pass midnight!"
Hogan could not hide a grin. "We won't wait up, I promise."
Klink did not like the light atmosphere on his account. He straightened his shoulders and hardened his tone. "Just get in the car and go to the camp. It's an order!" He turned on his heels but stopped and turned back. "Colonel Hogan, that man from the SS, didn't look a little suspicious? I think I saw him before..." He snapped his fingers. "I know, Field Marshal's party. He was one of the waiters."
Hogan's men looked as though someone would have told a joke, but no one dared to laugh. "Colonel Klink, I know that Germany's armed forces are in crisis, but sending their people to wait tables in a local party?"
"Yeah, that's POW work, isn't it?" Carter said with a shrug.
Klink glared at him and shook his head. "Get out of here." He stormed out, straight to his car.
"You heard him, boys. Field trip is over. Time to go home." Hogan got up. He and Kinch helped Newkirk to get on his feet. "Can you walk, Sherlock?"
"You made up all barmy stories just to bugger me of, didn't you?" Newkirk looked at his friends and sighed. "Stop staring, that's rude."
Schultz was outside, leaning on the truck's door. He had his eyes closed and snorted right when they approached.
"Is this the man that's driving us to the Stalag?" LeBeau asked aloud.
"He's practically sleeping on his feet," Kinch yelled, while supporting Newkirk.
Schultz jumped and dropped his rifle. He looked at them and shook his head. "Jolly jokers begin the day early, don't they? I am tired because I had to shove the snow all by myself. Where were you? The general sent you to help us."
"Are you complaining? We couldn't risk our health on this weather, could we?" Hogan grinned.
"You and your Geneva Convention," Schultz snorted. He bent over to pick up his weapon. "Newkirk, how is your head?"
The Englishman touched his bandaged forehead and shrugged. "Getting back to its normal size." He leaned forward as though to speak in secrecy. "But these blokes are talking weird."
"It's the lack of sleep," Schultz nodded. "With all the commotion, lights in, lights out... Bodies everywhere," he shook his head. "Good thing that Colonel Hogan is Sam Spade's cousin-"
Newkirk rolled his eyes and almost lost balance. "You too, Schultzie? This joke isn't helping to me headache."
"Let's get out of here," Carter said.
"Oui, Newkirk needs to sleep," LeBeau jumped on the truck to help the Englishman to get in.
"We all need some good sleep hours." Schultz turned around to make sure they were alone. "I intend to sleep all day long now that the big shot is gone. He won't come back till midnight."
"That sounds like a plan," Hogan said. He waited last in line to get in the truck. He was about to jump in when Carter shouted from inside.
"Oh, damn!"
"What is it?"
"The last chapter of his book is missing," said Kinch, pushing LeBeau to give Hogan room to sit down on their bench. "Who could do something like that anyway?"
"It's a German library in a bloody German POW camp, you figure it out," said Newkirk, lying along the front bench.
"Cochons," LeBeau sighed, shaking his head.
"Now, I'll never know who the murderer was," Carter whined.
"You can wait till the end of the war and buy the book," Hogan shrugged.
"Or, you can tell us the story so far. Maybe Sam Spade here can solve the mystery."
"Don't encourage him, Kinch," Newkirk said, resting his head on his hands and closing his eyes.
"It's okay, I can wait, I guess," Carter sighed.
"I wasn't talking about you, Carter."
"Oh, Newkirk, you don't trust my detective skills?"
"No offense, but for what I have seen so far-"
"Well, you haven't seen anything yet," Hogan smiled. "Go ahead, Carter. Tell us all about it. Dupin, Poirot and Sam Spade are all ears for you."
"I'm not playing. Poirot is not French."
"Oh, don't take it so personally, Louie," Kinch shrugged. "You can be Dupin. I don't mind being Poirot."
"How about you, Sherlock?" Carter asked Newkirk.
Schultz started the engine and the truck began to roll down the hill. After a brief moment, Newkirk took a purposeful breath. "All right, Watson, but only until we get home."
Well, I hope you liked the last chapter.
Till next time, thank you and see you later
